Giving Thanks or Whatever
by CardioQueen
Summary: Bailey gives Cristina an assignment that makes her ponder what she's thankful for.


Okay.

I don't want to do this, but Bailey is making me.

"It's Thanksgiving, Yang." she said, her lips all puckered, "It's a day to be thankful, not a day to do cool surgeries. It's a day to spend with our loved ones, but not avoid them."

I tried to argue that all of my loved ones were in LA, and I didn't really love them all that much. Okay, well Burke doesn't count for that. He's a surgeon, he understands.

"And what about Dr. Burke, Yang?" she spat at me. "You need to prioritize your life, Yang. You need to think about what you're thankful for."

So now I'm stuck writing a juvenile essay about what I'm thankful for. Seriously.

So, um...here goes.

I guess.

_I'm thankful that I'm smart and that I know everything there is to know in a textbook about surgery. And that I remember it all._

And that everybody envies how smart I am and that it intimidates them.

This sucks.

_I'm thankful for surgery. I'm thankful for carotid endarterectomies, I'm thankful for coronary artery bypass grafts, I'm thankful for abdominal aortic anuyerism repairs, I'm thankful for bleeders (that I can fix), I'm thankful for whipples, I'm thankful for radical nephrectomies, I'm thankful for double thoracotomies. Oooh. And standstills. Oh, yes. Standstills are the best._

I'm thankful for successful codes. Y'know, cause the patient lived and stuff because I did it right.

Not that I have that many failed codes. The ones that weren't successful were because the patient was going to live anyway.

It wasn't anything I could've done.

I'm thankful for 10 blades, clamps, clips, sutures, needles and blood.

They make my heart race.

I'm thankful for hospitials full of sick people who need surgery and sutures. People who need my talents and skills, and without me they'd die.

This isn't so bad.

_I'm thankful for febrile seizures, emergency tracheotomies, cracking ribs, and closing patients. I'm thankful for the gallery in the OR._

I'm thankful for 48 hour shifts so busy that I can't sleep for another 48 hours.

I'm thankful for the delicious coffee that gets me through those 48 hours, although it's not nearly as good as the gourmet coffee that got me through Stanford at the top of my class.

Oh hell.

Bailey's telling me that I can't just write about surgery and work. It has to mean something.

But surgery is everything.

God. Doesn't anything make that woman happy?

Ugh, this sucks.

_Okay. So. I guess I'm thankful for Meredith sometimes. I'm thankful that she's a little more dark and twisty than I am._

And I'm thankful for McDreamy because she doesn't follow me twenty-four/seven because she's all googly eyed for him.

I'm thankful for McSteamy because he's McGood to look at.

I'm thankful for Dr. Montgomery...but I don't need to write why. I won't go there.  
Get over it.

I'm thankful for evil spawn because I have someone other than just Bambi to pick on.

I'm thankful for Bambi because he keeps Burke off my case sometimes.

Burke...

I don't know what to write about him.

Why does it matter? What matters to Bailey about what I think of Burke?

As I go to lay my pen to the paper once more, a giant streak of black ink runs off to the right side of my page as Bailey snatches it from me.

She skims over it, one hand on her hip, a little grunt of approval as she reaches the end of it, "Finish it Yang, and I might let you scrub in on something. Might. And I don't want any of that 'Burke's cool' crap. Real feelings, Yang. I know you have some in there somewhere." she comments tauntingly, tossing the paper back down at me.

"Why do you need to know how I feel about Burke?" I sigh, tossing my pen down.

"I don't need to know how you feel about Burke, you need to know how you feel about Burke. Now get to writing otherwise, you won't pick up so much as a retractor today." she retorts, walking out the door, not even turning to cast a sideways glance at me.

"I know how I feel about him." I mutter to myself as I press the pen to the paper again.

But there are no words on the paper.

There are no words.

_Okay. Maybe I don't know how I feel about him. Okay. Whatever. I know that I live with him, and that I like living with him._

I know that there are things that I do to irritate him, and there are things he does that irritates me.

But I'm thankful for him.

I'm thankful for the nights that we have off together.

I'm thankful for the sex. (Hey, you asked. Not my problem)

I'm thankful for the coffee he makes me in the morning.

I'm thankful for him being thoughtful.

I'm thankful for him being patient with me.

I'm thankful for him pushing me when I can't take the next step by myself.

I toss my pen down. This really sucks.

I don't know why I need to do this.

It would take me another 8 hours to write down everything that I'm thankful for when it comes to Burke, even though I'd never readily admit it to Bailey.

It sucks admitting it to myself.

Whatever.

I pick the pen back up and try to think of a way to wind it up so Bailey will let me pick up a scalpel today.

The fingers of my left hand lightly tap against the walnut desk as I ponder a conclusion to this nightmarish essay and I catch Bailey out of the corner of my eye talking on the phone.

"I know, I know...I wish I was home too, but I have to be here today. At least I've got Yang to boss around. Silly girl doesn't realize what she has sitting at home, she'd rather be here to do surgery." she mutters, throwing her feet up into a nearby chair.

And I think.

I hate thinking about stuff I know I'm wrong about.

I'm here when I could be home. With him.

Sleeping in.

Eating dinner.

Enjoying his company.

I'm here when I could be there.

Because I'm a surgical junkie.

_I'm thankful for Burke. For everything about him and more. But you don't need to know what the more is, because I do._

And I'm thankful that I don't have to work today, because I'm going to go home and go back to sleep because this sucked more than the time that I had to hold the 60 pound tumor. And it wasn't nearly as cool.

I'm thankful that I have the choice that you can't boss me around today, and I'm thankful that you made me think about it...y'know. The thankful thing.

Whatever.

By the way...

if you tell anybody that you actually got me to leave this hospital, I will be the intern from hell until New Years.

Fin

A/N: Sorry. I know that I wasn't going to write any until after finals, but on my way to work today I was thinking of how pathetic I was. I was going to get canceled but they needed a tech in the PICU because of a 1:1 and I was way excited and told my husband that I had to work when I really didn't (Hellow, it's PICU...anything that ends with an ICU, I'm there)...but I went to Quik Trip and got my coffee and at the counter I admitted my digressions to Quik Trip girl (I don't know her name, but I see her every morning) and told her it's better than be stuck with my famil.y Of course she had to pop my PICU bubble and she said that she had at least wished that she had a family to go see. I need surgery to remove the giant foot from my mouth.

Nonetheless it sparked my muse.

I hope you liked it. 

Happy Thanksgiving!


End file.
